And the Day Started Out So Well...
by EilonwyG
Summary: Voldemort's not feeling so hot with his latest defeat from Harry Potter. Unfortunately for him, someone else finds this terribly amusing and sees his pain as an opportunity for some fun.


And the Day Started Out So Well. . . .  
  
Part 1  
  
  
  
Harry Potter was gone. So was the insolent boy's body. Back through the Portkey. Back to Hogwarts.  
  
My faithful servant shall dispose of him, Voldemort thought ruefully.  
  
But it was hard to feel hopeful when victims of his previous killings swarmed around him and his Death Eaters.  
  
Damn Potters! Angry, he raised his wand at the ethereal Lily and James and shouted, "Avada Kadavra!" As they were already dead, the spell had no effect besides infuriating the Dark Lord even further.  
  
Lucius Malfoy went past, screaming, running from an ethereal Bertha Jorkins. "Ahh! And I thought you were annoying when alive! What're you doing, taking lessons from Moaning Myrtle?"  
  
Voldemort rolled his eyes and looked on his sorry lot of flunkies. Wormtail still crouched, horror-stricken. Crabbe and Goyle, the dumbest of the lot, tried grabbing for an insolent James, who kept sticking his tongue out at them.  
  
This is what he had as followers? Pathetic, he thought. Absolutely pathetic.  
  
"Why me?" he spoke aloud.  
  
"What was that, Master?" Wormtail had finally gotten the courage to get up off his tail, not an entirely brave thing as all the ghosts had finally vanished.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"What now, Master?" Lucius Malfoy had gone back to his arrogant demeanor after the disappearance of Bertha and the others. The other Death Eaters watched him with rapt attention, waiting for instructions. Waiting for encouragement.  
  
As if he had any. Drat, now he had to improvise. Voldemort spread out his arms, addressing them all. Think, think, think . . .blank. "Again . . . Harry Potter . . . was lucky," he started, haltingly. "He will not be so lucky next time." How many times had he said this now? When would his followers begin to doubt his capabilities?  
  
Show weakness and they'll eat you alive.  
  
"I do not blame you for his success." Not my defeat. I wasn't defeated. The Death Eaters sighed in relief as one. Voldemort smiled. Good, he still had fear holding them.  
  
"I have no more need of you tonight. Return to your homes. I will call you again when the need arises. Do not forget your master." Yes, get rid of them quick. Before they begin to wonder about this evening.  
  
A chorus of "yes, Master" followed as his Death Eaters disapparated from whence they came. Only Wormtail remained.  
  
Voldemort shrank from exhaustion and depression. "Can this day get any worse?" Thankfully Wormtail didn't answer.  
  
Why? Why was he constantly defeated by this-this prepubescent boy?  
  
After the first time, he chalked it up to under-planning. Potter's accursed mother had to find the one way to counteract the Killing Curse. It wasn't the boy who had defeated him, but his mother.  
  
The second time he had underestimated him. Potter had only lived because Quirrell had been unable to touch him and the annoying headmaster, Dumbledore, had arrived just in time.  
  
But this time . . . He couldn't afford any more excuses. Was he losing his edge? Losing his mind?  
  
Losing his hair?  
  
"It's not fair!" he whined.  
  
"No, it's not, Master."  
  
Sigh. He'd forgotten about Wormtail. "Leave me alone, Wormtail!" And for extra measure, he shot him backwards with a simple Repelling Charm.  
  
"Yes, Master!" he cried as he flew away.  
  
Now with Wormtail gone, he could take full advantage of his body. After a nice, luxurious scratch, Voldemort stormed over to Tom Riddle's gravestone and gave it a swift kick. "Stupid Muggle father." Kick. "Stupid Harry Potter." Kick, kick, crunch. "Owie! My toe!"  
  
He sank to the ground and nursed his wounded toe, whining the whole time. He pounded the ground in the beginnings of a temper tantrum.  
  
"Not fair! I'm a powerful Dark Lord! I should be ruling the world, not being defeated by a boy! And this day started out so well."  
  
An owl swooped by, dropped a letter in his lap and darted away.  
  
Barty Crouch, Jr. has received the dementor's kiss.  
  
"And I thought it couldn't get worse."  
  
  
  
A/N: This was the first HP story I started to write. I came up with this idea one day at school, thinking that Voldemort must feel like crap for getting defeated by the same kid so many times. I came to the conclusion- Voldemort is a big loser. Sorry Voldie, I had to bust on you. 


End file.
